


How to Make an Avox

by ForFutureReference



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Because shit like that undermines the message, Body Horror, Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Though my goal and attempt is for this to NOT be torture porn or any sort of angst exploitation, Torture, prison rape, seriously this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:30:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForFutureReference/pseuds/ForFutureReference
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A detailed step-by-step guide to the creation of an Avox. Starring everybody's favorite ginger Peacekeeper.<br/>And no, the procedure's not pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Condemnation

_**Welcome to another issue of Ask the Capitol** _ _**®!** _

_**In this segment, we address the subject of Avoxes. As can be seen, and sometimes not seen, Avoxes provide an integral service to the Capitol. Why without them, regular Capitol citizens would be doing menial labor.** _

_**However, many people wonder as to the process in which an Avox is created. Well, we seek to put such questions to rest.** _

_**We hope you will find this step-by-step guide informative.** _

_**STEP I: Condemnation and Acquisition.** _

_**Avoxes don't grow on trees, you know. So where do they come from? Well, Avoxes were once regular people. However, those individuals have committed a crime. Not just any crime, however; so don't fret if you've been caught shoplifting or have outstanding debts. To be condemned as an Avox, one has to commit a crime against the Capitol itself. The thought of such a thing is shameful, isn't it?** _

Droplets of blood splatter against the pavement as our new Head Peacekeeper rears his whip back to give Gale another set of lashings. As each hit rends the hunter's back to ribbons and forces out another agonized gasp, I feel an additional surge of anger. I can't say that I miss Cray, that lecherous pervert, but his replacement's no more honorable; he's merely replaced corruption with terror.

I try to say something, but Purnia lays a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Anders, are you trying to get yourself in trouble?" she hisses at me.

"He's going to kill Gale!" I hiss back.

"I don't like it anymore than you, and I'm trying to figure something out. But just telling Romulus Thread he's wrong won't stop anything."

After a couple more lashes, Gale slumps into unconsciousness. But Thread just keeps on going.

 _To hell with figuring something out._  I shrug away Purnia's hand and step forward. In the process, the crowd mutters a bit as Purnia gives a resigned sigh: "Dammit Darius…"

"Sir?"

Thread stops in mid-swing to regard me. "Yes, Corporal?" His tone is as harsh and unyielding as his stare, and it's enough to make getting back in line appealing.

Despite that, something encourages me to stand my ground.

"I believe you made your point clear. You really don't have to continue, sir."

His eyes narrow, and he strides towards me until we're less than a foot apart. "Are you questioning the law?"

 _Yes._  "No, sir. Just that Ga—the accused's clearly been pushed to the brink. You whip him more, and he may not survive."

"It is not my problem if this criminal expires before all prescribed lashes are administered. Now get back in line; I will tolerate no further insubordination." Just like that, he turns away while already gearing up to send out another lash.

Before I can control myself, a surge of rage drives me to lunge forward and grab Thread's wrist with a scream: "STOP, YOU F—"

Big mistake.

My hand barely makes contact when he whips around to issue a rapid strike to my temple.

Blotches cloud my vision, and a searing pain floods my skull as I crumple to the ground. I try to rise, but a foot planted on my neck forces me back down against the cold pavement. Through the haze and ebbing consciousness, I can hear Thread as if from far away:

"The corruption runs deeper than I thought," he mutters before bellowing to the crowd, "Any more examples that need to be made?"

Then darkness takes me.


	2. Conditioning

A horrible throbbing pain flashes in my forehead as I wake on a cot.

_Ugh… feels like a bad night at the Hob._

Suddenly, everything comes back to me: Gale getting whipped; me trying to save Gale by stopping Thread; Thread clobbering me.

And now I'm in the brig with Purnia sitting right outside.

"Hey," she asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just lost to Haymitch at a game of coins."  _Might as well ask about the reason I'm here._ "Gale?"

"Still alive. Our victor got involved." A surge of anger flares when Purnia mentions how Katniss got a lash to the face. "However, Mellark and Abernathy managed to back her up and invoke their status, which gave me an opening. Last I saw, Hawthorne was carried over to the Victors' Village. It's just been an hour, but I think he'll be okay."

"Good."  _Fat load of help I was..._  "You here to say 'I told you so'?"

She shakes her head. "I don't feel like it. Besides, I'm sure Hawthorne was only a couple lashes away from being done in. So if it makes you feel any better, you probably bought him valuable time."

The funny thing is, it does make me feel a bit better. "So I suppose Thread's prepping the firing squad." I chuckle mirthlessly at the thought.

Purnia, on the other hand, is suddenly quite grim. "That would be preferable."

A cold knot settles in my stomach. "What do you mean?"

"You're already convicted of treason. I don't have to tell you what the punishment is."

My hand involuntarily goes to my jaw, as if to stave off the inevitable.

"I take it I'm on the next train out."

"Yeah. For what it's worth, it's been an honor serving with you, even if you were a bit of a fool."

That earns a genuine chuckle from me. "Thanks. Same here; without the fool part, of course."

"Oh and a certain someone — whom, of course, we don't know — came by earlier to give me these:" She holds out several cookies to me. "Think of them as the condemned's last meal."

I laugh and take them. "Thanks. Be sure to thank that person if you run into them again — which, of course, you won't."

"Will do. I suggest you eat them before Thread retrieves you."

When Purnia turns to leave, I decide to have a final request. "Purnia."

She stops to glance over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Please tell my family some other story. Don't tell them the truth."

"Don't worry; I'll make sure that it sounds like you went out in a blaze of glory."

"Thanks; the more epic, the better." A small smile forms at the thought. "I guess I'll see you on the other side."

"I guess."

After she heads out, I bite into a cookie, savoring its sweet richness. I know that it very well could be the last pleasant thing I experience in my life.

_**STEP II: Conditioning.** _

_**As the people who become Avoxes are dangerous and treasonous individuals, it is important that they go through a conditioning process even before partaking in their trademark procedure. Imagine the horror that would befall the Capitol and its upstanding citizens if these deranged and barbaric criminals were allowed to roam around with their subversive natures still intact.** _

_**After being apprehended, the condemned are taken to a special facility in the Capitol to detain and help treat them.** _

While the armor is stripped from my uniform, they don't bother giving me a new change of clothes during the entire long trip to the Capitol. Once the train reaches its destination, several armed guards drag me out and load me into a vehicle to take me to some facility.

I'm then taken out and sent to "Processing". Some officer fills out a form detailing my history and incarceration — naturally she makes sure to sneer at me with contempt — before ordering me to strip down completely and walk through some kind of passageway.

At the first stage of the passage, high-pressure blasts of cold water come at me from all directions; it feels like my skin is about to be torn off. After that, I walk through a waterfall containing some kind of smelly liquid that burns my eyes, even though they are tightly shut, and the cut on my head. I blindly stumble to the third stage where another blast of water hits me. The fourth stage just runs a gust of warm air through; I guess they couldn't figure out a method of drying that's quick yet painful.

When I walk into the fifth stage, nothing happens. Even when I stand, as instructed, on the yellow circle in the middle of the floor and face the proper direction, still nothing happens.

_Huh, maybe it's something that you can't se—_

Suddenly a bulky machine drops down out of the ceiling and clamps down on my head.

_**With the number of Avoxes we have, it can be a bit difficult to keep tabs on them. Thus, a tracking and identification chip is installed in a noninvasive manner.** _

I instinctively struggle against the device, but it just doesn't budge. Once it's clear that the thing is part of the protocol, I finally relax. That's when something jabs me behind the ear.

I can't help but gasp in pain as they insert… whatever they are inserting in me.

When the machine finally retracts, I move to feel behind my ear. Sure enough, there is a small, unmovable lump there. They actually affixed the damn thing to my skull.

Before I can process what just went on, the doors in front of me open, and guards rush in to drag me to my next destination.

_**While in the conditioning process, the condemned are kept in special holding cells. For their own safety, they are kept separate from each other with minimal contact.** _

I'm dragged past the wall of cells stacked on top each other. Here and there, I can see prisoners taken wherever they are taken by guards; they are just as naked as I am.

When I finally reach my cell, I'm unceremoniously thrown in before the door shuts.

There's no light in the cell. Not even the slightest muffled sound either. After just a couple minutes, the silence becomes oppressive; occasionally I scream just so I can hear myself. One of the few occasions I hear something is when they feed in audio of individuals screaming as they go through their "procedure".

Mealtime takes the form of either ration bars or porridge thrown in through a slot in the door. Anything I get is bland and texture-less, but it's something. I guess it's just to barely prevent us from starving to death; however, there are times when days pass before I can get the next meal. If I want to get a drink, there is small dribble of water that trickles down the wall that I can lick at.

There's no sink or toilet in the room; just a drain in the back corner. So when I have to go, I always try to do it around that drain and keep the waste as far away from me as possible; it's slightly difficult to do when the cell is three-by-seven feet. Usually, there will be an automated torrent of water that rushes through the cell and rinses it out. Sometimes it comes each day; sometimes it's a couple days until the next rinse. Its schedule is about as predictable as the food's.

_**Despite the unforgivable past actions of the condemned, workers and guards are trained and expected to perform in the upmost professional manner.** _

Several days pass before the door opens without notice, and I have to squint as my eyes adjust to the harsh light. I can barely make out the forms of several people standing outside.

A confident and amused voice rings out from one of them. "Now… let's take a look at our newest acquisition."

Before I can say anything, I'm dragged out of the cell into the walkway, where several guards wait.

"Well? I don't want shit smeared all over," the same voice orders.

Almost immediately, I'm sprayed with a stream of water until spotless.

"Ah, so we have ourselves a redhead. And what this?" I glance up at the voice to see recognition flashing on its source. "Anders?"

Come to think of it, I recognize this prick as well. 

"Hi, Harris." Basil Harris was an ass in the Academy, and that probably hasn't changed now.

My growled greeting earns a sneer. "Surprised you remember. You're usually too busy defending weaklings to spare a thought for those of us who actually matter." 

I bare my teeth in response. "Since you're not in the Victors' Village or rotting in an arena, that's a funny definition of mat—" A solid punch from Harris interrupts my statement. Still, I manage to spit out one more retort: "Aw… is someone still sore about me kicking their ass—"

This time, his punch causes blinding pain to flare in the same damn place where Thread got me. "How's being a smartass treating you now? Out there, being top of your class and a victor's son may have meant something. Here…" he boasts, "I'm always on top. And I'm craving some ginger to freshen up the day."

I know what these assholes intend to do, and despite my weakened state, I'm have no plans on going down without a fight. So without warning, I lunge up to break the closest guard's nose with my elbow. Then I follow up with a left hook at Harris' jaw. However, my stiff and starved body fails me, and I'm restrained before I can continue further.

Harris pauses for a moment to wipe the blood off his chin before chuckling… and landing a hit on my solar plexus. As I collapse to the metal floor and get pinned there, he grabs a fistful of my hair to pull my head back.

"Got some spunk left. I like that in my playmates," he whispers in my ear before chirping to the rest, "Alright, hold gingersnaps still. I get first dibs."

…

After the first couple times, I start using the guards' "visits" as a way of telling myself how many days pass. They are way more reliable than the showers or food.

_**Of course, the main thing to ensure that the Avox knows their place in society is for them to relinquish their old titles and embrace their new ones.** _

I sputter and try to catch my breath as the guards remove the wet cloth from my face. A portly technician reclines back in his chair and fixes me with a bland gaze.

"Really now," he says casually, as if he is a primary school teacher admonishing me for a spelling error, "it's such a simple question with a simple answer. What is your name?"

I don't care how many times we go through this — I lost count after seven — or how many more there are; I won't give them the satisfaction. They have taken my livelihood, my dignity, and they will be taking my tongue. But I won't let them take my name. "Darius Anders."

"Tsk… You sound like a broken record." He motions to the guards. "Again."

"You're one to ta-AAARRGHH!"

They don't do the same torture each time; I guess it's to keep things fresh. Instead of the water, they flood my body with electricity. My body attempts to arch itself up but the straps hold every part of me — even the fingers — in place.

_They can't do this forever. Can they?_

"We can keep doing this all day, you know. Just answer correctly, and we'll be done with this inconvenient business. What is your name?"

They may be able to do this forever, but if I push them hard enough, maybe I can get them accidentally kill me. "Darius… An—"

I'm interrupted by the technician's bored sigh. "Again…"

This time,  _along_  with the electricity, a machine begins drilling through my fingernails into the flesh beneath them.

_Stop! STOP! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!_

"What is your name?"

_This will never be over. Just… just give them what they want._

"A-Avox… 02-0179B…" I manage to croak out.

The technician fixes me with that same damn bland gaze as a small smile plays on his lips. "Finally, some progress. Though you don't seem too confident in your answer. Let's do this a couple times more… just to be sure."

"Wait, n—"

"Again."


	3. The Operation

_**Step III: The Operation** _

_**Naturally, the portion of the Avoxing process that most people tend to be interested in is the medical procedure itself. Considering that the hallmark of an Avox is the lack of tongue, there is no reason that this step would not be considered the hallmark experience.** _

_**Before they actually go through the operation, the condemned are examined to make sure that they are well prepared.** _

I actually get to have a warm shower, and I take my sweet time before a guard— not Harris, to my relief —  moves me to a sterile room where a matronly doctor scans my chip.

"Avox 02-0179B. Former name: Darius Anders. Date of Birth: August 6, 179. Gender: Male. Home District: Two. Former Profession: Peacekeeper." After rattling off those stats, she looks up at me to ask, "Is this information correct?"

I'm extremely tempted to state something like:  _"Oh, Darius is actually my evil lost twin. He pulled the old switcheroo, and now I,_ Daryl _Anders, am in this nasty mess. So, can I go now?"_

However, I just reply with, "Yes, ma'am."

_**For the sake of pacification and keeping our citizens safe, it is common for the condemned to go through a fixing operation. It either takes the form of full emasculation for males or oophorectomies for females…** _

Besides regular physical examinations, the doctor begins looking me over as if I'm a barnyard animal being appraised. Squeezing a forearm here, fiddling with my hair there, prodding my body here and there…

A month ago, I probably would have felt self-conscious. Now though, strangers have been messing around with my naked body long enough that it no longer fazes me.

She then asks one of her assistants, "When was the last time he got tested?"

"Only just a couple days ago."

"Anything of note?"

"No VDs or any blood-borne contamination. Medical history shows no abnormalities either, genetic or otherwise. Despite the usual physical trauma, subject is about as healthy as can be."

"Hmm…"

_What the hell does "hmm" supposed to mean?_

…  _ **However, for various reasons, the procedure is not always carried out.**_

Finally, the doctor makes her judgment. "This one looks like he can do well in the entertainment sector. So I'm going to label him as Class-A. Take him in for operations and keep him whole."

Despite everything that I know is about to happen to me, I can't help but breathe out a small sigh of relief.

_**The Capitol takes great pride in the quality of its operating conditions as well as the treatment of even its most despicable enemies. So quality control is a very big part of the operation ethic.** _

After the last bits of details have been taken care of by the doctor, I'm taken out of the examination room and towards what I assume to be the operation facility. As I'm marched down the corridor, I pass operation rooms; the walls are clear so as to give an oh-so-wonderful view of the interiors. Occasionally, a room would be occupied with the screaming occupant in full view. The empty rooms aren't that much better as I can clearly see that don't clean them out after each operation; blood and waste is pooled and smeared all over the floors and operating chairs. Upon passing another occupied room, it's apparent that they don't even bother wiping the chairs down when a new "patient" is admitted.

So naturally I'm surprised when the room that I'm taken to is completely clean to the point of sterility. Must be one of the perks of being labeled "Class-A".

_**A very common, and quite distressing, misconception is that the tongue is simply ripped out or chopped off. Why the very thought that the Capitol would stoop to levels of barbarism. This isn't the districts; there are no reasons to subscribe to such crude methods. In fact, the process is actually quite sophisticated and thorough.** _

_**With advances in medical technology, the operation is able to be done remotely; this is to ensure the safety of our medical professionals.** _

After I'm securely strapped to my chair, and panels are put at the sides of my head to prevent me from moving it around, I see a machine lower down from the ceiling and approach me. It is almost reminiscent of a goose, with a head at the end of a long flexible and articulate neck.

Except with this goose, the head is outfitted with various hooks, tubes, blades, and lenses. That's when I realize that they haven't even given me any morphling.

_**For ease of operation, the jaw is kept open. Suction tubes are also inserted to drain any blood being let out from the cutting of tissue. The tongue itself is fixed to further prevent it from moving around.** _

Once the machine's right in front of me, I'm ordered to open my mouth. Be it an act of defiance, stupidity, or both, I keep it clamped firmly shut. Suddenly, something jabs me in the lower back, and I give an involuntary gasp of pain. With that little opening, the machine quickly slides in some sort of jack which starts expanding. No matter how much I resist, I feel my jaws being pried open, with the jack jabbing into the roof and floor of my mouth.

Once the jack stops, I can feel several tubes settle at the floor of my mouth and begin suctioning. That's when I feel the first sharp bout of pain, as several hooks pierce my tongue and proceed to stretch it up and out.

 _**The first part of the tongue operated on is the frenulum** _ _**linguæ. This is cut away so as to loosen-up the tongue itself for an easier operation.** _

Even before they begin closing, I can feel the miniature scissors approaching the divide-y thing at the bottom of my tongue. When they start snipping away, pain blossoms even more than what I felt with the hooks, and the first whimpers escape from my throat.

_**With the cutting of the frenulum, work can commence on the muscles of the tongue itself. The first muscle to be worked on is the genioglossus, which is carefully separated from the floor of the mouth. Cuts are cauterized to prevent excessive blood loss.**_

I just barely recover from the pain, after the scissors have stopped, when I hear a high-pitch buzzing sound. I can just barely comprehend what is about to happen when a new wave of agony hits as the blade goes under my tongue, then side to side. That's where I throw away every last shred of dignity and pride that I have left to let out a feral howl.

Whenever I pause between screams, there is either the wet sound of the blade whirling away at my flesh or the sizzling of my flesh being burned.

Finally, the pain becomes too much as blissful darkness overtakes me.

_**After the genioglossus has been completely freed, the hyoglosssus is then cut from the greater cornu of the hyoid bone. Then goes the palatoglossus, and then the styloglosssus. Care is taken so as to leave the geniohyoideus and stylohyoideus intact.** _

_**Once every muscle has been freed and any remaining tissue severed at the base, the tongue is easily lifted out. Work is then immediately done to seal any open wounds so as to prevent bleeding and infection. For the floor of the mouth, a layer of epithelial tissue is laid down and affixed to replace the former tongue. From there on, with no small part due to the miracles of Capitol science, the healing process is quite rapid.** _

When I finally come to, I find myself in a slightly larger cell than usual. This time, there is light, a cot, toilet, and even a little window so I can look outside. I guess being a Class-A Avox means that they want me to actually heal in a healthy manner. At the thought of healing, it suddenly all comes back to me as to what I am healing from, and I start noticing how cavernous my mouth feels.

As the full magnitude of my loss hits me, I curl into a ball and slowly, but hesitantly, reach a finger inside my mouth to feel for something that I know is no longer there…

_**Even with the removal of the tongue, it is still possible to create some semi-coherent noises. To complete the procedure, the vocal folds are perforated to stem the ability to create tones.** _

When they bring me back to the operating room and tie me into the chair for the second time, I just want to get things over with. I'm too tired to get scared or upset.

So I don't even try to resist as the machine snakes down my throat and starts cutting it up.


	4. Acclimation

_**Step IV: Acclimation.**  _

_**An Avox can't simply be thrown out into the open. There must be an acclimatization process so they can get into tip-top shape so that they will not only be able to function with minimal supervision but also look extra presentable.** _

I actually go through medical treatments to fix any wounds I've endured during my imprisonment; I even get free dental work. During that time, I'm not only given a regular increased serving of food, but am allowed to exercise as well.

Eating's a bitch at first. I haven't realized how important the tongue was until now. Because my current lack of said appendage, I'm forced to eat out of a tube that supposedly filled with vital nutrients. I remember looking at the contraption with dismay the first time it was slid into my cell. I have to position the thing and suppress the gag reflex so that the nozzle is literally in my gullet; once in place, it simply force-feeds me the paste. There's the fun realization that this is probably how I'm going to eat for the rest of my life.

I've been tempted to choke myself to death with the feeder, but it's actually made so that such a thing is impossible. A guy in the cell across from mine tried… and failed… with messy results. It's soon clear that everything here, from the furniture to the exercise equipment, is made to eliminate the possibility of suicide. So there goes that idea.

_**Like any well-trained animal, Avoxes need to have discipline if they are to work in public. An untrained Avox that lacks discipline could wreak havoc and cause such distress amongst our upstanding citizens. Thus, Avoxes go through a rigorous training process so they can perform at tip top shape.** _

For the first time in a long while, I'm actually given clothes to wear. Basic fare, but it's still clothes.

Afterwards, I'm taken to a hall that serves as the training facility for Class-A Avoxes. There, the exercise regimen becomes structured not just for fitness but to tone muscles. I also go through a procedure that eliminates the ability to grow facial and most body hair; I honestly wouldn't mind this if it weren't to prime me for my "vocation". But it's not like I or others have a choice as we're taught to serve dishes, perform advanced etiquette, clean rooms, make beds, clean up messes, handle fragile objects, be sex toys, otherwise keep out of sight, etcetera… After a lesson, we're expected to immediately perform the task at hand.

The whole time, there are overseers who judge us on our performance as we go through various tasks. Occasionally, there are also various competitions given out. They determine not only our skill at a task, but how quickly we get it done. Supposedly, the more points I rack up, the sooner I'm able to be done with this training.

_**On top of this, great pains are taken to ensure that good behavior is practically hardwired into them. If an Avox-in-training slips up, it is with a firm guiding hand that they are set straight.** _

The clatter of silverware against the floor fills the hall as a colorful string of expletives fills my brain. I can feel the rest of my compatriots staring at me with a mixture of fear and pity before they scurry to continue about their business; they know what's coming. Even as I futilely try to pick everything up and proceed as if nothing ever happened, one of the overseers in on me within several seconds.

"Avox, what the hell is this?" he yells at me.

I'd answer him, but… you know…

I make a small acceptable gesture of apology while grabbing the last of the silverware. It's not enough.

"Your clumsiness means that the silverware needs to be cleaned again, possibly delaying service to an important citizen."

_Aw, I'm sure that they'll be so distraught, they won't know what to do with themselves…_

"Well, I doubt a lecture will get things through that dense skull." He motions to a guard. "Confine this failure to solitary for twelve hours. Maybe it'll learn its lesson."

Memories of my cell floods back to me, and I look up pleadingly. Doing so, I end up breaking a major rule.

The overseer's eyes narrow as he growls, "Did you just make eye contact, Avox?"

Realizing my error, I quickly avert my eyes and shake my head quickly.

However, the damage is done as he proceeds to bark, "Add ten lashes to the established punishment!"

As they drag me towards the whipping post, I see him smirk and add, "That should teach you about uppity towards your betters."

_**The process** _

"Avox, these clothes have wrinkles in them!"

_**is** _

"Avox, I see some streak marks on this glass!"

_**repeated** _

"Avox, you're too slow!"

_**as** _

"You are going to regret bumping into me, Avox…"

_**necessary.** _

After an undefined period of time, the training process ceases, and I'm simply left in my cell. Shortly afterwards, I'm taken to another examination room, where an official and several of my overseers await.

The official wastes no time scanning me before he checks his tablet. "Status report of Avox 02-0179B, Designation A."

"Recommendation for full transfer," one of the overseers says.

"Alright, let's go through the checklist. Time?"

"Pass."

"Unobtrusiveness?"

"Pass."

"Thoroughness?"

"Pass."

"Obedience?"

"Pass."

"Temperament?"

"… Pass."

"Physical condition?"

They strip me of my clothes to examine me closely. All the while I keep my eyes averted so as not to offend anyone.

Finally they are satisfied and announce, "Pass."

After the official marks everything off, he simply states, "Congratulations Avox 02-0179; you have been cleared for a full transfer and are now ready to work in the real world."

_**Once the Avox has managed to clear all training goals, they are ready to be sent out into the world as proud members of the Capitol's work force.** _

_Hooray…_


	5. Service

_**Step V: Service** _

_**After an Avox has completed their training, they are now ready to perform various tasks in the service of the Capitol. There are actually various classes of Avoxes. The bulk of them mostly serve to perform menial labor to keep this city in tip-top shape. Others can be purchased so as to function as personal workers for various households and businesses. At the very top, the Class-A Avoxes are the lucky few who actually get to service the who's-who of the Capitol.** _

The dormitories I'm taken to are similar to the cells during the training procedure. After getting cleaned, groomed, and provided a service tunic — I know better than to expect any other garment with it — I line up with the rest of the Avoxes for inspection in preparation for the work ahead of me.

_**From there, they are** _

I'm standing by patiently for someone to call for my services when I hear some partygoers talking about the coming Quell. From their discussions about potential tributes, I put two and two together, and the realization sends me reeling.

_Tributes are going to be reaped from existing victors… OH SHIT! That means that Katniss is definitely going back..._

Unfortunately, the thought keeps me preoccupied to the point of ignoring a young teenager; probably the kid of someone important. The kid immediately gets hostile.

"Hey, Avox, why aren't you getting my drink? I want my drink!"

Forcing down some creative imagery of what I could be doing to that little brat if I had my Peacekeeper gear with me, I simply nod and move to obtain a soda that was not even specified. However I guess that's not enough, because I'm immediately tripped and the kid decides to start kicking and screaming insults at me while I'm down.

"Useless fuck! Why do they keep you if you can't get my stuff!"

Most of the onlookers just laugh at the sight.

It's fortunate that a hypothetical slap from Posy — I'm not sure she's even capable of contemplating such an action — probably packs several more times of a wallop than the kicks being landed by this Capitolite. However, there's still no way I'm allowed to retaliate; so the only thing I can do is curl up into a ball until an attendant informs the assailant that I'm an expensive commodity.

After I'm patched up, and have makeup applied, I'm sent back out to do whatever work needs to be done.

_**prepared to** _

An intoxicated partygoer decides that it's a good idea to drink from one of the purge glasses right at the table. His entire stomach contents not only go all over the floor but onto much of the food.

Of course I'm the nearest guy available.

"Avox, clean this mess up!"

_**perform any task** _

Another party's over, and the guests have all filed out of the ballroom, leaving behind the tables still laden with food. Just the stuff left on one table alone could last the Hob an entire day.

"Avoxes, hurry on now and take these leftovers to the disposal. And no sneaking anything out!"

_**required of them.** _

Talon-like nails skitter across my tunic as the socialite's hand gradually finds its way down and slips under to find its… prize.

"My my… Aren't you an adorable one…" she muses while giving a firm squeeze, and I do my best to keep my tray steady and the blood from rising to my face; with the appearance that she has, I don't have to worry about it going other places. Her hand still in place, the old biddy gives me a lecherous smile, revealing jewel-encrusted teeth. "Gifted too. I could just take you home with me."

I can hear her tongue flick in and out between glittery violet lips as she lowers her voice and offers a husky purr into my ear: "You know what; I think I just might do that tonight."

"Hands off, Euryale!" a man barks; the colorful thread-like feathers on his eyebrows bounce around as he hurries over to us. "I saw this one first and already paid the absence fine! Isn't that right?" he croons to me while grabbing my ass.

While the two bicker, I repeat the same mantra I've used since landing this "job":

_It's just another night… Just another night… Just another night…_

_**Some Class-A Avoxes are even lucky enough to service some of our most valued celebrities.** _

After who-knows-how-many-weeks, I'm told to get myself ready since I'm being transferred to another place of work. I don't question where — as if I can — but simply stand at attention outside my room to be taken wherever. As we reach our destination, I still have no clue where I am; only that I seem to be heading up quite a few floors up a service elevator.

Waiting for me is a female Avox who seems to be my age and, incidentally, also a redhead.

The overseer in charge of me doesn't waste any time. "Avox 00-5342C is experienced and will show you the ropes. Don't screw this up." 

As the overseer leaves without a second thought, the girl motions towards me, and I follow her through some fancy apartment to our quarters.

That's when she brings out a pencil and paper, which causes me to eye her with an expression of alarm. _Is she trying to get us killed?_

She seems to notice it and quickly writes,  _"Don't worry. They don't seem to care if we communicate with each other here. Just don't try it on anyone else, don't write anything that the Capitol doesn't already know, and make sure to burn the evidence. So what's your name?"_

When she hands me the pencil, I can't help but stare at it before tentatively beginning to write, "Avox 02-0—"

A delicate hand gently but firmly stops my writing, and I look up to see my compatriot shaking her head and taking the pencil away. " _What's your name?_"

It actually takes me several seconds for me to figure out what she means; to my horror, it takes a couple more to recall the answer. " _Darius._ "

With that single word, it's as if a knot's been untangled; from there, I spend a good amount of time getting to know the girl, who's named Lavinia. Granted, while the two of us discuss where we're from and what we used to do, we don't get too much in detail as to how we got here. All I say is that I was insubordinate regarding the punishment of a local, and all Lavinia says is that she tried to run from the Capitol. I also don't mention where I was stationed.

In the end though, I wasn't assigned here to be Lavinia's buddy, and we both know what would happen if we're slacking. So I familiarize myself with this vacant apartment — I suppose there has to be occupants at some point — as my compatriot guides me through the process. 

Of course, this new job and accommodation doesn't release either of us from our _…_ other duties; at least not until after a couple weeks, but I don't ask what happens then. Though there's some small comfort in Lavinia being at my side most of the time; it's clear that she's been doing this longer than me, and I can't help but feel that her guiding extends to outside of that apartment. So in just this short span, a sense of camaraderie grows between us.  

At the end of those couple weeks, the apartment is finally getting its occupants, and we stand by a set of fancy elevator doors at front to greet them. 

That's when the doors open. That's when my blood turns to ice as I realize why I'm here. And that's when I learn the true meaning of shame. 

Because I recognize each and every person: 

The man who won every time against me at both drinking and board games. The boy who always had a friendly word to say whenever I — pre-Games — grabbed something at the bakery or — post-Games — crossed his path during one of his bread runs to the Seam. And the girl who traded and ate with me; not to mention tolerated my stupid jokes with good humor.

Oh and Effie Trinket.

Haymitch is the first to see me, the look of humor on his face being replaced by a mixture of horror and fury. Trinket is clueless as usual; declaring me and Lavinia to be a "matched set."

That's when the two kids notice.

Peeta, who's supposed to know what to say, is completely gobsmacked with an uncharacteristic rage increasingly visible. But worst is Katniss; she has a look of not just horror, but extreme guilt as if she were directly responsible for my current… condition. That look tears into me and multiplies my shame tenfold.

They should just remove any pretense and label this Floor Angst.

Fortunately, Haymich intervenes, and Katniss runs off before anybody can get into trouble; everybody else scatters soon after. Lavinia cocks an eyebrow in an unspoken query as to what the hell just happened, but I ignore it to focus on setting dinner; she doesn't need to be in this mess as well.

Dinner itself is tense affair, with Haymitch and Peeta awkwardly attempting to ignore the ginger elephant in the room, while Katniss is spaced-out in her own little world. She then proceeds to knock over a bowl of peas and uses the incident as a pretense to get close to me. The moment may be short-lived and risky as hell, but I still find some solace in it. After dinner is finished and the dishes are cleaned, we're mercifully excused.

When we get back to our quarters, I have an urge to simply fall asleep, but Lavinia gestures impatiently to sit next to her. _"What was that about?"_

So I explain. To my surprise, Lavinia also begins to tell the full circumstances of what led to her Avoxing, as well as how she's also familiar with Katniss in an awkward way. Through this shared connection I feel our camaraderie taking on a new level, and I'm buoyed by it.

Though one question still nags at me:

_"Does it get any easier?"_

Lavinia seems to wait for an eternity before giving her answer:

_"No."_

I don't know what it is about that simple word. I've endured worse and have managed to keep my cool, more or less. But something inside me breaks, and next thing I know, I'm sobbing hysterically which sounds even worse with a mangled throat.

As I fall apart completely, a set of slender yet strong arms wrap around me. While my blubbering doesn't cease, I lean into Lavinia's rocking embrace, which gives me a source of comfort that's been severely lacking from my recent… intimate encounters.

Things may not get any easier, but at the very least we have each other:

Two screwed-up souls waiting to die.

_**If you are interested in purchasing an Avox, please contact the Human Allocation Office of the Department of Labor. There will be an agent happy to assist you in your purchase.** _

**_We hope you found this issue_ _of Ask the Capitol® to be informative._ **

**_Thank you, and have a wonderful day!_ **

**_*Ask the Capitol® is a product of the Department of Communications*_ **


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